


Blue Truck

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Incest, Summer, pinecest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 17:04:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3985990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their fifth summer in Gravity Falls, Dipper gets a truck. A little summery Pinecest drabble filled with Pitt Cola, lazy kisses and freckles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Truck

The truck’s purchased their fifth summer in Gravity Falls. The thing almost falls apart the moment Dipper touchs it, the bumper dropping to the ground after a light tap. But it’s from Uncle Stan and, being the cheapskate he is, the fact that he bought Dipper a truck to ride around in is, well, bafflingly generous to the twins. 

And with a handyman like Soos, a missing bumper and a few broken locks and a stuck key aren’t too much of a problem.

It’s painted blue, kind of a mix between navy and royal. Because Stan had some in the back that he’d been too cheap to get rid of, convinced he’d use it at some point. So yeah, it’s not the right paint for a car and they don’t have the right equipment, but it’s a fun afternoon that ends in paint-splattered shorts and smiles and a truck that’s no longer yellow with rust spots. 

It becomes a symbol of freedom. Of independence. They don’t have to squeeze into Thompson’s minivan anymore, squished between torn seats and the graffitied ceiling. Instead, they sit on worn leather seats that might have a few cracks but are warm from the summer sun. 

There are weekends by the lake. A cooler in the back, filled with Pitts Cola they could steal from the house without Stan noticing. Blankets for impromptu picnics. An old radio stolen from the Shack that Soos rigged with a good amount of tin foil and a new dial in the form of a bottle cap. 

And if there’s another box filled with flashlights and rope and enough disposable cameras to start a disposable camera store, well, go ask Dipper about it. 

There are nights under the stars. Sneaking out and staring a bonfire down by the lake. What starts out as a group of teenagers turns into the whole town singing and roasting (read: catching fire to) marshmallows and smushing them between two graham crackers with a piece of leftover Summerween chocolate. 

There are dates. He drops her off. Picks her up out the restaurant a few hours later, arm wrapped around her as she sniffles and his laugh echoing in the cab as she tells him about dumping ice water in the asshole’s lap. 

They get burgers and fries at the diner and take the to-go bags outside, eating sloppily. She gets ketchup on her dress, the pink one she’d bought to impress her date. She just scoops it up with a fry and asks Dipper to pass the milkshake.

In his case, it feels weird to have another girl besides her sitting in the passenger seat. He keeps on looking over and expecting to see brown hair and a tank top, sparkling sweater on the dash, abandoned in the lack of AC. The first time he kisses a girl in his truck, the seatbelt chokes him and it’s a weird angle and it’s wet and sticky and he’s thinking the entire time that this can’t possibly be something people enjoy.

He makes up some story about his date smelling like cats that has his sister giggling, rolling on the floor in laughter at his exaggerations and funny faces. 

Their first kiss is in the back, lying back on the tail gate with three blankets underneath them and Pitt Cola on their lips and her sweater abandoned in the heat of the summer. 

It’s a mistake, the first time, blamed on a small truck bed and the sweltering sun. It’s an experiment the second, and after the third they stop trying to label it and just go with it.

His hat’s on the dash more than it’s on his head, her fingers in his hair and his hands around her waist. The seatbelt doesn’t choke him this time, the angle’s just right and she tastes like Pitt Cola and that vanilla lipgloss she’s taken to wearing everyday and carrying in her back pocket. 

He learns to drive with one hand, the other entwined with hers or in her lap as she tries to connect his freckles with a Sharpie, testing her theory that he has the entire sky on his skin. 

The truck breaks down near the end of the summer. They pack their bags with a promise from Soos that it’ll be running by their next visit, he’ll take good care of it and don’t worry dudes. 

They leave with clothes smelling of warm leather in their suitcases, their fingers intertwined and vanilla lipgloss on their lips.


End file.
